


Let me shoulder your burden

by Strangewhispers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Harry Potter, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gay Panic, Life Debt, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, One-Sided Attraction, Post-War, Publicity, Scheming, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Top Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27617842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strangewhispers/pseuds/Strangewhispers
Summary: Recognising the current social bias of the wizarding world in these volatile times, Harry find himself in the midst of a snake den that schemes to make their climb back through the rank of social standing via his life debt to Narcissa Malfoy while making use of his unfortunate 'displacements' in The Daily Prophet as of yet.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Original Male Character(s), Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28





	1. Simply Scandalous Potter

Considering the fact it was only 6:32pm on a Sunday, Harry thought his day couldnt get much worse than it already is.

Many months had settled and passed since the war was theoretically 'won' in May. Many funerals were attended, even more tears shed. Harry remembering the stone faced expression of Lavender Brown's father when his daughter was laid to rest in comparison to Mrs.Weasley who's barely restrained wheeping for her boy was resonating through him a week later. Admittedly Lavender's mother, beautifully cherubic in appearance even with her haunted eyes, was clung to her husband when he finally turned his head and noticed Harry in attendence. Glaring, his anger and disgust evident. Harry left quietly, patiently waiting to meet with the others at The Cauldron with butterbeer, charming them to stay cold.

He had been tracing the final line of his doodle on his condenstated empty glass when he heard the others swarm in. Quickly swiping his thumb, he rid the evidence of his wondering mind.

Getting up out of his seat, Harry outstretched his arm towards Ginny whom was walking arm in arm with with Luna. To his amusement, he got a face full of platinum blonde hair along with a whiff of sea breeze instead, as Luna lovingly squeezed him in greeting. "Hello Harry."

Squeezing back, he rested his chin atop her head. "Hello Luna."

"Grief is different for everybody, Harry. Sometimes people would like someone to blame and its never nice to direct it towards yourself."

Humming in agreement, he opened his arms and sought after Ginny whom had been watching with a feint smile on her lips but with eyes that Harry noted seemed odd. Distant.

Her height meant he was mumbling his words in her cinammon fragranced hair, though even the note of his own voice didnt drown out the slight sound or sensation of her inhaling his scent. "Alright, Gin?"

Her exhale warmed his chest. Nodding, she let go and looked up at him with a genuine smile, eyes sparkling. "Yeah. I-"

The hard clap on his back from Ron interrupted anything she might have had to say further as he went ahead and ushered Harry into the seat next to Hermione. Her hair formed loose waves and was much shorter than the last time she had seen him, resting at her shoulders. Her eyes were wet and glassy but her makeup, whatever little she may have done, had held strong.

"Brown's a knobhead, mate. Dont know why he's taking it out on you, aint as though he was even _there_." Ron spat and gulped at his drink.

Lavender's funeral affected Ron not nearly as much as Geroge's but it was clear to Harry that his friends feelings towards his first adolescent love meant his emotions were turbulant and he hoped Hermione, as understanding as she was, could help Ron in his grief.

While Harry himself hoped to offer Hermione a shoulder to cry on as her insecurities continued to festered with being constantly compared to a dead girl.

Clinking of a glass being set ontop of the table brought Harry's eyes to Neville. "Harry's not done anything Ron. But being a father who's lost their child, he's probably thinking Harry could've done something..."

"What do you mean?" Ron looked baffled.

Harry and Nevilles eyes connected. "He's thinking 'I wasn't there but the oh great Harry Potter was...he lived, twice... So if he's so great why couldnt he save my child?'. Obviously thats a twisted way to think, especially since he wasn't there himself...Probably can't bring himself to think of it as anybody else's but Harry's fault. Don't think about it though, Harry." Nevilles eyes turned steely and Harry felt a sudden chill as goosebumps prickled his skin. "You did what you could. What more could you have done? Really?"

_So much more._

The silence had then stretched across the table, only ever interrupted with faint smiles and whisperings of shared memories. Stories of a once obsessive school girl with a compulsion to over share and fill a void that they now only realised only she occupied.

Once dry eyes became gradually bloodshot, silences becoming longer and drinks emptied or ignored, Harry and the others said their goodbyes. 

Firm squeeze of the shoulder from Ron. Whole hearted hug from Hermione. Nods in unison with Neville. Small wave of dainty fingers from Luna.

Sitting in Muggle London, at a pub Harry chose based on the dark interior, dim lighting and old vintage bottles taking up every inch of the back wall, he couldn't ignore the inkling triggered by Ginny's fairwell gestures. A lingering hand at his back, leaning into his ear and whispering that he was welcome over any time.

"You look lonely." Raising both his eyebrow and his drink as he turned towards the distinctively deep voice, Harry took a sip of his drink while watching vivid blue eyes looking from his eyes to his lips. 

He was young, dirty blonde hair neatly combed, sporting a navy blue three piece. 

Harry was pleased to note the stranger was still distracted with watching his mouth, though now conscious of the fact he refrained from smiling and instead replied "Im not lonely."

Dazzling smile with perfect teeth revealed to say "Enjoying my company already?"

Snorting into his cup, Harry put his drink down. "You're confident."

"That?"

"That I don't find your approach full on. That I don't think you're full of yourself." 

A leering smirk made Harry uncomfortable. "Wouldn't you rather be full of me too?"

Scoffing, he made to leave, getting up off of his stool only to be pulled in at the waist, boozy breath fanning his face even as he attempted to pull his left wrist out of the man's sudden grip. 

"Aren't you feisty?" The stranger asked, though Harry knew his sarcasm was tinted with amusement.

Leaning his face in, Harry looked the man in the eyes, determined to threaten that this piece of shit didn't want to make him angry when the burst of white light flickered in and out rapidly. Panicking, Harry shoved with both hands, forcing his freedom but all the while knowing his face would be plastered on the front pages of The Daily Prophet.

_Bloody Brilliant._


	2. Panicking Potter

Turns out Harry didn't need to wait long to be confronted with his moving images that he could now clearly recognise as looking _fairly_ misleading.

Although being in Grimmauld place with his breakfast constantly interrupted by floo calls, persistent owls tapping at his kitchen windows ( _Fucking hell, all his bloody windows_ ) and Hermione (She had decided to make an old fashion appearance at his front door) holding up a copy of what looks to be two individuals getting on _very well_... Sighing and bleary eyed, Harry looked down at his cold plate and charmed it warm. Unfortunately this meant glancing at yet another stupid copy of this mornings issue, flown in by his new owl Eros.

Eros found himself at home with Harry months ago after his glowing yellow eyes were noticed following him across the expanse of the window showcasing the Magical Menagerie 'wares'. Walking past, Harry returned only to purchase Eros later that afternoon.

Speaking of, Harry could see Eros sitting atop the head of another owl trying to get in. An irate, dark feathered creature that looked thoroughly disgruntled.

"Honestly, Harry, have you heard a word of what I've been saying?" Hermione dropped her copy on his counter with a smack.

Before she could sit down he called her name and indicated Eros' need to veer into his home.

Huffing, Hermione went to unlatch the window while Harry used this as an opportunity to shovel his now piping hot eggs, bacon, beans and sausages. His buttered toast taunting him on a plate by Hermione's side when they should truly be in his stomach by now.

Eros flew past Hermione and set himself into the open kitchen cupboard, screeching his comfort. Harry had noticed his affinity for dark spaces and learnt his lesson the first time the owl had bundled into his cupboard while he was making dinner. Harry treated himself to expensive mugs, champagne flutes and glasses to replace the broken ones.

The disgruntled dark feathered owl shook itself before gliding gracefully into his home, dropping a scroll of parchment gently on his counter and flew back the way it came.

Thankfully Harry was mostly finished before he saw the sigil embossed on the outer surface of the parchment that reminded him of one that he had seen more often than not in the papers as of recently.

Two serpentine creatures, mouths agape with flickering black flames, grappling at the side of a black, green and silver intricate ‘M’, phrasing what Harry deduced was latin ‘ _Sanctimonia Vincent Semper’_.

Thoroughly put off his food, he put his hand out to grab at the parchment only to startle when tapped on the hand by Hermione's wand, igniting small blue sparks.

Muttering audible, “Honestly.” Hermione performed spells to detect possible hexes and curses. 

Sheepishly, Harry said.”Yeah, I should've checked…”

The raise of her brow had Harry blushing.”Okay, definitely should've checked.”

She stopped what she was doing and just looked at him and Harry could feel the heat on his cheeks. “Hermione. I get it. Stop.”

She mimicked his words in a high whingeing tone and they both burst out laughing, effectively dispelling his embarrassment.

Harry knew moments like these grew rare and fleeting and therefore drunk them in. Hermione grew more assured of herself with each passing day, only to sink into what he imagined to be like a depressing sinkhole at times.

“You done, yet?” He asked.

She nodded and passed him the parchment.

He slid off the rich emerald green ribbon with embroidered malfoy emblom, only to see a wax seal with the same cocky imagery. Cracking it in two, the paper flew out of his hands and unfurled upright in the air. As his eyes skimmed along the words, they glowed from inky black to pearlescent green and back to black again. 

> _‘Harry James Potter,_
> 
> _I, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black and boon companions, honourably extend an invitation to discuss the terms and collection of your due life debt towards I, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black._
> 
> _Understandably you may bring your own boon companions as you see fit, although they will be there for consulting our mitigations while I and yourself will instate our terms solely._
> 
> _My home is extended to you via the floo network, as are our wards down for apparition._
> 
> _I expect your attendance Tuesday, 1pm. Our network and wards will discontinue their services 15 minutes after the hour, at which if you do not attempt to attend I shall have to inform The Ministry._
> 
> _Of course, a luncheon will be provided._
> 
> _Narcissa Malfoy nee Black’_

Under her signature were two stamped approvals, one of yet another poncy Malfoy crest and to Harry’s confusion a Ministry of Magic stamp with further scribbling under that in gold.

> _‘Approved by the Ministry of Magic, Kingsley Shackleblot’_

When it became apparent Harry finished reading, Hermione swished her wand to turn the letter around in her direction and began reading it herself.

Humming, she plucked the letter out of the air when finished and as if all the magic sucked out of it, the paper grew limp in her grip. 

“What's kingsley got to do with this?” He hoped Hermione had all the answers.

“It’s a legally binding contract, Harry. Life debts are rare and there's been accounts of people having exchanged their due debts and been horribly mistreated. She could ask for anything; your family name, your fortunes, your home or lifetime worth of your undying service. Of course, you would need to agree to the terms and therefore it is your own choice, but the ministry keeps accounts from the beginning till the end of your exchange just in case. Say for example, someone promises their blood to a vampire and then never follow through, the ministry will forcibly invoke your loyalty with impirius.” She finally took a breath.

“Oh…” A sudden thought entered his mind, “What do you think she’ll ask for? She’s got everything. A home thats as lovely as a torture chamber-” Hermione winced, "-her name is spoken about around the world for all the wrong reasons and I’m sure they’re still as rich as ever.” Though Harry realised he didn't know where their fortunes came from.

She shrugged, “Whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll bring this up”. She lifted up this morning's paper, reminding him of why he hates mondays. Any days really.

He groaned, “Don't. It's bad enough I have to see Mrs.Weasley and know she’s going to be looking at me side eyed and wont give me the opportunity to explain it’s not what it looks like without it sounding like a living cliche. Imagine! ‘Oh harry, dear, it’s okay, a random stranger? Oh. Oh dear, oh I’m not sure if I need to know this. Would you not rather speak with Ron?’” He folded his arms over his head, lowered his forehead to the counter and whined, mentally pained with the imagery.

“Harry.”

“Yeah?”

“Please tell me you're joking.”

He snorted, “No.”

He then peaked up at her. Her wide eyed expression made him pause.

“Please. Tell me you've read this.”

“No.” He drew the word out long and felt silly.

She hurriedly unfolded the paper and held it up and as she did, Harry felt whatever little brain cells he had dissolved into what he could only describe as being goo as he had missed the large bold black lettering that tore dread through him quicker than if someone had stabbed him.

“This.” Hermione hissed the word as though speaking parseltongue. Any other time he would have laughed if he didn't think it would have triggered a sob instead.

‘ **HARRY POTTER EMBRACING MALFOY FAMILY LOVER?’**

 _Fuck_.


	3. Denial Potter

Ron whistled low, “You’re screwed, Mate.” He lifted his drink to his lips in defeat.

Groaning, Harry’s forehead, yet again, met with his coffee table with a thunk. This time he let out a high whine afterwards as the pain registered. He was certain it would eventually bruise if he continued physically berating himself.

Harry heard a rustling as something moved forwards to join him in the middle of the floor.

A gentle patting of his head, which he assumed was to comfort, from who he guessed was Luna by the small rattling sound of the many bracelets she now normally wore clinking together. Though he could barely be bothered to raise his head and find out for certain. Her little whispered coos of “There, there.” confirmed it, nonetheless.

He didn’t want to smile but she made it difficult.

“I second that, hard.” Neville was becoming a strong fixture in their lives, regularly over Grimmauld Place or The Burrow and sharing his home for their group gatherings too. His grandmother regularly fawns when they gather, however Harry could not compare her to Mrs.Weasleys as their mannerisms were very much different.

Hermione gave a little, immature, giggle and mouthed the word. Ron lightly butted their heads together as she was slouched on his lap and with a grin confirmed that (“Obviously.” Harry couldn't help his eye roll) she was drunk. (“Tipsy.” “Drunk.” “No...I’m drunk...” They had both snickered together but Harry was sure Hermione didn't know the actual reason).

“She’s a mess.” Harry stated the obvious and scooted back so his head could rest on the sofa behind him and Luna followed enough so that her head rested in his lap and he began to return the favour, massaging his fingers on her scalp this time. 

Luna shut her eyes. “You drove her to drink.”

A chorus of snorts echoed.

“Wow, thanks.” He couldn't help his lopsided grin.

She stopped his hand by resting her delicate fingers on his and looked into his soul. “You invited us all here for drinks as though we’re celebrating something but we’re not even sure what they want with you tomorrow. Then you ply us all with drinks as though that might help you forget but the reality of the situation is overwhelming.” She looks to Hermione and were it not for Ron’s two armed grip on her sleeping form she might have slid off his lap and joined them on the ground. “She’s worried.” Ron’s smile faded and his expression firmed marginally.

“Overwhelmed…” Echoed Neville, looking into his glass. Sombre.

“Sorry.” Harry began to apologise, only to be cut off.

“Don’t.” Ron looked him in the eye. 

Harry knew even without words being spoken that Ron was conveying to him that they knew. They understood. That whatever he could be asked for meant the possible end of life as they knew it. They would make it work, somehow. He would be _okay_. 

He didn’t _feel_ it.

Once everyone had left and Harry sat alone in his living room, surrounded by glasses with varying remnants of replenishments scattered across his coffee table, floor and wedged upright between his seat cushions (Thanks Ron) the entire evening Ginny’s posture had registered to Harry as being both angry and rigid. She made no attempt to speak and thinking back on it, her smile was waxey and a failure of an attempt at normality.

Harry had avoided looking at her all evening as as soon as he did, primal instincts or his magic warning him of an impending sense of danger, chills cascaded up his spine.


	4. Nostalgic Potter

Running his tongue along the roof of his mouth, Harry pondered the possibility of ulcers. Hermione had mentioned, offhandedly, that her parents regularly treated patients with high stress levels and therefore prone to the painful bumps.

_So far so good, I guess._

Not long after watching the two distantly fading twig like pieces of the elder wand drift downwards from the viaduct had Harry turned back towards Ron and Hermione. Knowing from the conviction in both their gazes that it was time to retrieve Hermione’s parents. 

Australia, unintentionally, brought the three of them to a state of mind where they easily could convince themselves that they were still on the run, searching for horcruxes, the final battle imminent, their friends, family and peers still alive. Waiting for them. Although the stark reality that the war was done, the outcome final, came at a little muggle dental office with white printed calligraphy on a frosted tint glass door stating _‘The offices of Dr. Wendell Wilkens and Dr. Monica Wilkens’._

The Grangers, with their memories of their daughter and lives in London restored, returned to their home in the Hampstead Garden Suburb. To begin with, they rarely let Hermione out of their sight, cautious that Harry and Ron were the reason she was driven to her choices of ‘abandoning’ them, as they saw it. Arguments ensued, though with time, they eased their hold. In particular, Harry was sure it had to do with one evening, the night before Fred’s funeral, when Ron had rushed into his home at the Burrow, failing to see Harry sitting in the armchair closest to the entrance. Following up the steps to Ron’s room, amid the silence of the family that was surely home but consciously waiting to put one of their own to rest. He had raised his hand to knock, only to witness the door creak open on its own. 

Ron had been sat, hunched in on himself, on the edge of his bed, one palm to his face while the other had his newly purchased wand pointing at the door. Walking in, the door had quietly shut behind Harry. 

Stopping opposite who could be his brother, Harry saw Ron’s distress as fragments of spittle were visible on his trembling lips as he spoke.

“I talked to Hermione's parents...”, Ron’s voice cut off in a painful sounding whine.

Harry didn’t bother speaking, just bringing his hands to the top of auburn hair and holding Ron close to his abdomen. The closest attempt of a hug he could manage while standing. 

It was clear to Harry that Ron found voicing his thoughts and feelings difficult, always unsatisfied with being misunderstood, constantly demeaned for trying. He was certain that this was Ron’s attempt at keeping the girl, woman, he loved closer to him.

They hadn’t told this to Hermione and Harry wasn’t certain they ever would.

“You ready yet, Mate?” Neville’s imitation of Ron’s familiar speech brought Harry back into the present. 

Chuckling lightly, Harry turned away from the Weasley clock. The absence of Fred’s hand was unmissable to Harry, though he often found his mind wandering when he looked at it.

Neville had spent most of the morning, most of his recent months actually, around the weasley household. Ron and Neville found a companionship unlike Harry’s with Ron’s or Neville’s alike. He didn’t mind, they were all growing into themselves and Harry supposed that if it weren’t a change grown sooner by war that they would all still have many youthful summers of similar minded idealisms to cherish. 

“Yeah, Luna meeting us there still?” He asked.

Plopping onto the patchwork sofa, Neville sighed in satisfaction. “Yeah. Don’t know, she didn’t seem uncomfortable but I asked her again this morning to make sure. Her dad wasn’t pleased, though.”

“Sod him.” Ron’s steps were audible as he descended down the stairs.

Coming up behind the sofa, he clapped his hands onto Neville’s shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze.

“You ready yet, mate?” Smirking lopsidedly at Ron’s repetition, he instead said. “Your mum’s reboiling the kettle.”

“Fucks sake.” Watching Ron rush off into the kitchen, Harry made his way to the upstairs bathroom, listening to Neville follow Ron.

Mrs. Weasley was often in a dase, easily drifting as Harry did moments ago but she was obviously drifting as a form of escapism. Nearly always in her beloved kitchen, standing or sitting on a stool by the stove, rhythmically reboiling her kettle, wand swivelling every so often. A steaming mug of tea nevertheless constantly untouched and by her side.

Harry had apparated to their back door, leading into the kitchen and from where he stood the top of her head and the end of her wand had been easy to spot from the window, steam fogging the very top of the glass.

She hadn’t noticed him until the sound of him raising her bright periwinkle coloured mug with a copper ‘M’ and similarly coloured handle, gifted to her by Fleur and Bill on her birthday, lowering it back on the kitchen table with a clink of porcelain on wood.

Absentmindedly she turned to face him and her lifeless expression transformed into a mother welcoming her child.

“Oh Harry, dear.” She outstretched her arms and he followed suit.

Breathing in cotton, tea leaves and something flowery, Harry considered if this was what all mothers smelled like.

Patting his back gently, she said. “Neville and Ron are upstairs…”

By the return of her crestfallen expression, it was clear who else was home too, quietly occupying a two person room.

He had kissed her cheek, quietly thanking her and had given her a final squeeze goodbye.

Opening the bathroom door, he ventured inside and shut the door. Turning the taps, Harry cupped his hands under the torrent and splashed his face.

Sufficeintly soaked, he turned the taps off and stared at his reflection. 

Harry wasn’t sure how long he stared into his own emerald eyes but when he heard a soft knock on the door and Ginny’s whispering of his name, his face was completely dry.

Composing himself with a deep breath, he flicked the lock and was taken by surprise as the door flew open and his lips were smashed against Ginny’s as her hands tangled in his hair and her legs wrapped around his waist. Grunting, he held her steady though the suddenness of the situation made him step forward, supporting her weight against the door and securing it shut. His hands on her silky nightgown, still wet, was sure to be cold on her thighs. Her kisses were desperate, her breath huffing against his cheek. Her chest couldn't have been comfortable mushed against his, but her loud groans and sighs made him unsure. Her hands unlocked from his hair and went to his cheeks, her wet tongue prying it’s way into his mouth. 

He felt uncomfortable.

“Harry!” Harry never felt so happy to hear Ron’s voice.

Scrambling to untangle themselves, Harry ran out the door as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and tried to tame his hair with both hands.

He ignores Ginny's hissing of his name calling after him.

Making it down three flights quicker than he thought possible, he breathed out “Ready.” and apparated at Malfoy Manor with Neville hopefully at his heels.

The familiar whooshing sound of an apparated individual confirmed that Neville was behind him. 

He looked back at him and quickly turned back towards the front pathway of the manor, ignoring Neville’s raised eyebrow. Still staring at the imposing building, Harry was certain the occupants knew of their arrival as he watched twinkling lights come to life.

Nevilles crunching gravel steps stopped next to him.

“Things back on with Ginny?”

Harry shook his head, no.

His movements made him catch sight of something he oddly didn’t expect to see at malfoy manor, alerting him to an aroma that reminded him of Mrs. Weasley. A neat line of white lilies surrounding the inner hedges of Malfoy manor.


	5. Jokes on you, Potter

With the fragrance of his mother's namesake as a sign of what he imagined to be a good omen, Harry took a deep breath and with it lingering in his nostrils, he began striding up the footpath.

Neville's accompanying crunching steps followed.

The nearer they approached Harry considered whether he was expected to knock as a sign of formality. He was certain their sudden arrival had triggered the wards. What he acknowledged as beautifully ornate serpents in heavy set silver, twining leisurely together, were so high out of reach that he doubted they were supposed to be functioning knockers.

He thought to ask Neville his opinion when the elaborately carved obsidian double doors unfolded inwards. In the centre of the entryway stood the miniature stature of a house elf, half bent inwards himself, bowing.

The warm glow of a lit candelabra in its tiny spindled fingers, an homage to malfoy regality, illuminated pointed ears and an equally pointed nose.

"Master Potter." The creature's head held low, the baritone echo of his words sounding mild mannered.

A slow pause followed by an acknowledging "Master Longbottom."

Harry and Neville exchanged quick glances at each other. Harry wondered what he was truly walking into and could see the same thought reflected in Neville's expression. 

As he took his first steps into the property of a family whose way of life and morality sought to eradicate his own once upon a not-so-distant time, he remembered that it wasn't so long ago he was captured and enslaved here. Not long ago Luna was enslaved here. Hermione tortured...

Hence his reasoning for taking Neville and Luna instead of Ron and Hermione. Hermione's physical and emotional scarring was obvious and Ron was her comforter. Luna didn't even hold a grudge... Harry couldn't understand why.

Harry heard the predatory hissing of the ornamental snakes behind him as the doors joined together and he walked further into what could truly be described as a snake pit.

Following through lavishly decorated corridors, wholeheartedly over the top in Harry’s personal opinion. He had lost count of the amount of chandeliers overhanging, though they were pretty and each different from the next. They made it closer to where he presumed they were meeting with Malfoy's mother if the rise in general chatter and clinking of glasses was any indication.

It unsettled him that the rise in noise indicated more people than he had initially anticipated would be here.

Heart thudding, he only just realised he didn't know how to go about any of this. How do you address the mother of your childhood tormentor? Madam? By her first name? Mrs. Malfoy? Should he even say anything or just let her take the lead? Either way, it was too late to ask Neville as the archway to the drawing room held no door nor barrier and he was face to face with more occupants than he had hoped to see.

Namely the snotty offspring to the woman he owed his life to and his fellow snotty purebred minions.

"Lost, Potter?" He startled at the sudden smug appearance of Blaise Zabini from behind him.

Harry then tried to style out the skip in his heart beat as the house elf escorting them popped rather loudly into nonexistence from ahead of him.

Stepping out of the way of Zabini's path, Harry didn't say anything as he took in the appearances of all the occupants; Parkinson sat with her knees crossed and smoking something he would have mistaken as a muggle cigar though the smoke was a sickly fluorescent green colour, both Greengrass sisters sat huddled up against either side of Parkinson with tumblrs of brown liquid, Gyole looking surprisingly less porky than the last time Harry had seen him but he guessed fighting in a war might motivate some people to change, Bulstrode was as pug-faced and bitter seeming as always as she sneered rather Malfoy-like at him, Davies sat on her own with her legs crossed on top of a regal looking chair too small to be a sofa though too big to be a chair. To Harry's genuine surprise even Marcus Flint was present, speaking in hushed tones to the Malfoy heir himself on another not-quite-a-sofa-though-not-quite-a-chair chair.

Zabini sat himself down next to Davies. Rather than simply moving, she lifted her legs up in the air, exposing her underwear as her skirt shifted while Zabini elaborately plopped down in a way that still came across as neat and practiced and placed her still crossed legs onto his lap.

Uncomfortable and somewhat embarrassed, Harry looked away only to lock eyes with icey grey.

The silence was crippling.

The situation itself was beyond awkward and Harry felt himself stiffening and attempted to regulate his breathing under all the scrutiny.

Zabini (Honestly, what a git) acted as though this was his home and the situation all under his control, extended a hand in the direction of a few unoccupied, (Stupidly beautiful) upholstered chairs. "Take a seat, don't be shy now." Melodramatically he added, "We've been expecting you."

Harry refrained from snorting, lest he give him any satisfaction. 

"We're here to speak with Lady Malfoy." Neville's voice made it obvious to detect his own dislike for being there.

Harry heard Parkinson's snicker for the first time since she volunteered to have him be carted off to his own execution. To say Harry was still bitter was an understatement. "Got here in a rush, did you? Could have sorted out Potter's awful barnet."

Both Greengrass girls, Daphne and Astoria, put their hands delicately to their mouths and titter with mocking laughter too high pitched and giggly to be genuine. He hoped they weren’t genuine anyways...

Zabini tutted in disapproval. "Haven't you heard? Bed hair is all the rage."

He expected this. Petty childish shit. What he didn't expect was to hear Flint speak up.

Harry doesn't have many memories of Flint, just the usual house rivalry and the way his teeth were skewed. Most memorable would be the leering on the quidditch pitch while he flew, the obnoxious way he spoke and Harry would think at the time if the uncomfortable prickling sensations running down his spine was warranted.

Flint, however, must have seen the magical version of a dentist since his graduation as straight pearly whites gleamed while he leered at Harry in a way that rose the hairs at the back of his neck unpleasantly much like at Hogwarts. "More like he's enjoyed a good shagging, ey Potter?" Never taking his eyes off of Harry, he nodded his head in Neville's direction. "Taking turns with the 28?" Looking at Neville now. "Any good? He's got lovely lips. Always imagined he likes it _rough_."

Harry felt his cheeks grow hot and a sickening feeling of bile rise up his throat, even as he was confused as to what Flint meant by '28'. 

Insinuating he had slept with Neville was one thing, to assume he had slept with 28 people was a bit much.

Pulling a face, Bulstrode commented, "You always had strange taste." She set down her nearly empty wine glass in theatrical disgust.

Neville, however, was fuming, wand out and pointed at the smarmy expression still plastered on Flint's face.

"Don't." Harry said, right hand coming up to hold onto Neville's left bicep.

Malfoy, quiet until now hummed. "Got a replacement for Weasley, have we? He makes a prettier guard dog. Less ginger, a little more _rabid_."

"Shut up, Malfoy." He was half tempted to let Neville have his way and help throw hexes himself.

"Clever." Nott murmured, disinterested, into his own glass of wine. Harry had failed to notice him sitting off on his own to the side. 

That unnerved him...

Flint must have also grown suicidal since leaving Hogwarts and surviving the war because he was goading Neville now. "Oh come on, Longbottom, don't be greedy, let's have a taste." He leaned back and spread his legs suggestively, hand grabbing his crotch roughly. "From what I've read in the papers he's all for taking turns." Looking at Harry, "When I'm done playing with your little boyfriend, Potter, I'll show you a real good time. I'm one of the 28 too, you'll be happy to know. Weasley, Longbottom, flint. You're well on your way."

Controlling his own anger and the acrid taste of bile enough to lean into Neville, Harry put his lips close to his ear, face hidden from their spectators and quietly whispered. "We'll play nice and wait for Luna." At that he squeezed the hand still wrapped round Neville's arm. He heard Malfoy say, "Obedient, too. Fancy showing us some tricks?" 

Barely stopping himself from telling Malfoy he would love to show him a trick that begins in Avada and ends in Kedavra, he continued "We'll speak then leave. No unnecessary magic and no feeding into any of their bullshit, yeah?" He felt Neville nod. "Good."

"Rather intimate between dog and owner." Said Malfoy commented obnoxiously. 

"Rather see Potter on a leash really." Flint retorted.

_Fucking hell._

He squeezed once more, trying at reassurance, then let go and stepped back while Neville slowly put his wand away.

"I see I have walked into a wonderful display of comradery between friends." 

"Yes, quite." Harry hadn't meant to say that aloud but seeing as everything was volatile already he didn't think this could make it any worse.

Mrs. Malfoy's footfalls were echoed by the clicking of her heels as she strode confidently towards them from double doors that Harry had neglected to notice amid this shit storm reunion.

First Nott then Malfoy's mother...? Glamours. The house was glamoured.

Malfoy stood, as did the others, though he alone walked to his mother and, with what seemed like telekinesis (if not some quick and practiced form of legilimency and occlumency), communicated something he really wasn't sure of.

Mrs. Malfoy took her son's hands and held them together in her palms. "You may stay. I shall take our company to the greenhouse. Gill shall summon you if need be. Do be patient, as you well know this may take some time." She seemed to direct this to everyone but Harry and Neville.

After a chorus of replies consisting of many hums, snorts, chuckles and two very lackluster sounding replies of "Of course." and "Undoubtedly." mixed together to the point where Harry couldn't tell who had said what. Malfoy's mother released her son and then did the unthinkable.

Casually regarding Neville with a curt and quick nod, which Neville returned, she made the few steps it took to stand in front of Harry, raising her manicured fingers to his face and gently swiped the hair from across his forehead and cajoled strands behind his ear. Or at least he thought she had attempted to. Either way, he was struck numb by the gesture as she never took her eyes off of his.

Narcissus Malfoy had always stuck out as an odd character to Harry since the moment she risked her life and his by lying to Voldemort. Had he tried to read her mind or did he learn to trust a follower other than a spy? Either way, he had solidified his own death by looking into her eyes.

Harry felt much the same now.

Seconds ticked by, his view of Malfoy and his sad bunch of misfits was blocked by her figure, as was Neville, though he was sure they were just as dumbfounded if the silence all round was any indication.

"Ready, child?" Her voice washed over him like honey, sinking into his pores.

He shuddered. Fleur had the same effect on him.

Veela.

Steadying his breathing, eyes still linked with her blue ones, he was clear of his own senses and whether she knew that or not he answered her question the only way he could. 

Murmuring, "As I'll ever be..."

She removed her cold fingers from behind his ear and started to walk towards the arched entrance way she came from, her voice echoing behind her. "Good."

Looking at Neville he expected to see a shocked expression but found him regarding everyone else still in the room with suspicion as they were doing their best at looking innocent. As innocent as you can try to look while being blatantly smug.

Harry chose to ignore them. Their behaviour only confirmed his suspicions that Mrs.Malfoy had attempted to influence him in some way. If they believed he was, then he might have the upper hand. 

"Run along Harry dear, you really shouldn't keep a lady waiting." Zabini chirped as he settled back down.

Davies set herself beside him and cuddled up to him closely. She then had the cheek to wave Harry and Neville a farewell.

“Harry-” Neville began, his voice inquiring.

“Let’s go.” He needed to let Neville know he was fine but now wasn’t the time.

Walking through the entrance with Neville hot on his heels Harry felt the many piercing stares of eyes at their backs.

A green house? Understatement of the century. A more accurate description would be another mansion made of fucking glass. "Filled with more than enough exotic and extraordinarily rare flowers, poisonous roots and other magical counterparts to aid the growth of budding seedlings." Neville was practically breathless as he spoke in rapid whispers.

The further in they went the climate would change minutely ("Aids the growth and simulates the environment of natural habitation."). At some point Mrs. Malfoy apologises for deciding to bring them here as apparently it's a work in progress. While contemplating how this couldn't possibly be finished, the twining branches at the very back of the greenhouse unfurled from being, what Harry would call a flower wall, to the entrance of a seating area.

An occupied seating area. Wonderful. Just. Bloody. _Wonderful_.

The seating arrangements were rather intimate. Dim, twinkling, lighting coming from low hanging plants, some magical variety Harry had never seen before. He heard Neville choke on his breath and could practically feel the waves of his excitement vibrate the air. Although on second thought, it could be from the shrubbery around them, housing tiny birds with even tinier beaks that open in silence but make a funny pulsating sensation coarse through you if stood too closely, like a sudden gust of wind taking your breath away.

Though Harry could contribute the breathlessness and impending headache to the closer they got to Lucius Malfoy.

"Potter." 

"Malfoy."

"Do sit down." Malfoy got up from where he was seated and physically, albeit roughly, moved the chair in the middle of the three opposite where he had been sitting back an inch.

"Forgive me." The condescending tone of his voice was overbearing. "I would have -" he gestured with a swish of his hand, "- though as you know, I am on a restriction of sorts." He sneered.

Lucius Malfoy was convicted of aiding and abetting Tom Marvolo Riddle, former dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort, in the eradication of muggleborn wizards, wiches and the torture of muggles. Pleading a change of heart at the final battle, retreating and found by Auroras with his only child and wife, he was sentenced the irrevocable use of a wand and lifelong travel ban through worldwide floo networks and withheld his apparition licence for 12 months after willingly revealing the names and hideout of several minor Death Eaters and their supporters. 

Harry understands the animosity, seeing as from Malfoy Senior's perspective, Harry had taken an active and personal role in his sentencing by using his seat on the Wizengamot. 

Asshole should be happy he’s not currently rotting in Azkaban where more than enough people rather use their hand then their wands to personally thank him for their capture.

"Cheers..." He replied unenthusiastically. What else is there to say?

He sat himself down while holding back the urge to scan the area for hexes or curses. Imagining himself set aflame with Malfoy Senior looming over him was a new mental image he was sure his subconscious would store away for future nightmare material.

Neville went to Harry's left, sitting opposite Malfoy Senior after the man was done pulling his wife's chair out rather more lovingly, placing a chaste kiss to her cheek and murmuring something into her ear.

Once it looked as though everyone had settled, small plates of china with matching teacups and saucers, already filled glasses of water and miniature silverware suddenly appeared.

“Oolong?” Mrs.Malfoy held her wand delicately towards a silver teapot his aunt Petunia would _literally_ kill for.

Feeling like he should refuse for his own wellbeing, Harry kept quiet.

Though she must have known he would as she wasn’t even looking at him and poured a cup for her husband and then herself before looking at Neville, who to Harry’s surprise nodded yes and thanked her.

“This is a ministry approved encounter, Potter. I Highly doubt my wife would deem it an appropriate time to do you harm.” Snobbed Mr.Malfoy.

While frowning at him, Harry did feel a bit stupid for not considering that but he reminded himself that she wasn’t shying away from using her Veela influences on him.

Mrs.Malfoy poured him a cup while he sneaked a peak at Neville sipping his tea, feeling reassured that Neville didn't immediately explode or something equally horrific.

The smell of the tea wafted his way, reminding him of hazelnuts and the flowery scent of the green house itself. 

Breathing it in, he hesitantly tasted the dark liquid and found it tasted of chocolate. Though as he was taking another sip to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, he belatedly realised his mistake as Malfoy’s mother apparently was getting straight to the point. 

"Understandably, you may imagine the picture you paint with your unfiltered indulgence of the flesh." She began.

Choking at her words he started violently coughing. Neville started patting his back though through his bleary eyes Harry could see his expression was a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.

“What Harry means to say, Lady Malfoy, is that The Daily Prophet fails to give an accurate account of his...” Neville attempted to reason.

“Indecent behaviour?” Malfoy Senior added.

Getting over the last bit of his coughing Harry corrected. “Life. They lie about my life.” 

"Be that as it may, public speculation is a given. However you do give them quite the earnest effort of conjuring up their imaginings." Mrs.Malfoy continued, "Is he promiscuous? Does he favour red heads?”

Her husband smirked, “Oh, the sudden appearance of a man? Why, now the pool of potential suitors has truly doubled." 

Growing embarrassed, Harry was sure he knew where this conversation was going.

"Now you see, imagine my surprise when it comes to my attention that you were spotted in a compromising fashion with Draco's cousin." Mrs.Malfoy finished.

Her husband sat beside her with a shit-eating smirk.

“Look, it wasn’t what it looked like. If you need me to leave him alone, leave all of you alone, then I will. Done.” Harry lent further back into his chair as though the little bit of distance between them he made was an assurance to his statement. It’s not as though a life without any Malfoy’s wouldn’t be a happier one.

Malfoy Senior piped in, “No boy.” He shook his head, still smirking.

Mrs.Malfoy put her hand on top of her husband’s and gave a quick squeeze, effectively silencing him.

She looked at Harry and spoke slowly. "I believe you can help restore some... Integrity? No.” She paused as if thinking, “An influx of influence to our remaining standing in this very complex world at this time. As you know, times are changing.”

“Times have changed.” Harry rebuked.

“Yes.” She compared better to a fox than a snake. “I’m glad we are in agreement.”

Harry felt uneasy as the silence ticked on.

“What do you want?” He asked bluntly, he was done playing their game.

“Our saviour...” Harry was growing tired of all the theatrics, “betrothed to a mere former Slytherin foe?” He hadn’t expected her to say _that_.

“Now that is a headline for resurgence." Anything but that.

“Wait, what?” Harry felt his brain short circuit as Neville blurted what he was thinking.

“You, Harry James Potter, betrothed. You may choose to whom, only... they must be from our close circle of associates. Understandably, this does mean you will need to spend a significant time around this estate as a form of mutual ground to get to know your betrothed better.” Mrs.Malfoy untucked a sheet of parchment from under her cup and saucer.

She slid it across the table towards him. Harry couldn't bring himself to reach for it knowing what it must be. Neville must have known how he felt as he was the one to touch the parchment only for it to unfurl similarly to the one he received by owl in his kitchen.


	6. Confused Potter

_ ‘Life Indebtment Contract between Narcissa Malfoy Nee Black (Creditor) & Harry James Potter (Debtor)-’ _

Harry could hardly breath through his nose as he felt his throat tighten and his heartbeat speed up to a frightening pace. The stark realisation that this was in fact happening, he wasn’t having some sick twisted fantasy while laying in bed late at night.

His eyes skimmed over words he recognised though he couldn't comprehend their meaning as they blurred together in a jumble; _‘Betrothal’, ‘subsequent marriage’, ‘purebred ceremonial intent’, ‘publicity’, ‘opposing side’-_

Only then did he notice it was quiet. Why was it so quiet? As though his hearing fisseled into sudden existence, the sound in the room rapidly came to him; The dribbling of tea being poured, murmuring and loud rustling of leaves.

“I see we’re just in time.”

Breath officially taken away, Harry felt his world slow down as he turned to look at a ghost. 

“I see you have brought a stray.” Malfoy senior commented snidely.

Harry looked away from Snape and his obsidian gase. The sudden realisation that he had flung himself out of his seat and practically ran out of the doorway past both Luna and Snape came to him as he felt the warmth of his arm brushing against Snape’s.

Running away from his problems for the first time in his life, Harry knew it was pointless and to turn back but he couldn't feel the weight of his footfalls over the hard humping beats of his heart and cool whooshing of air on his skin as he exited the greenhouse. 

“Hey Potty Potter, what’s the rush-Oh Fuck!” The shattering of glass was followed by Zabini’s swearing and the shrill screams of the girls.

“Fucking hell, Potter!” Malfoy’s roar bounced against the marbled walls.

Neglecting to look back, Harry kept running until the corridors became quickly unfamiliar and his harsh heaving breaths hurt his lungs. A door flew open ahead, revealing a dark room rivalling the interiors of the Slytherin dungeons but he had his sights firmly set on the light streaming through the open doors at the end of the space leading outside.

Feeling the warmth of sunlight as he passed through, he doubled over, grasping at weak knees as he finally gulped lungfuls of air. He noticed that he was shaking as every exhale through his teeth gave a little shaken whistling sound.

Focusing on his breathing, Harry became dimly aware of soft steps approaching from behind.

“Sorry.” Harry winced listening to his own voice. He sounded pathetic.

“I presume Narcissa enjoyed the spectacle.” Snape’s tone was richer than when he had last heard it.

He sounded nothing like the man he saw struggling to breath, blood seeping, beginning to bubble in the corners of his lips.

“No…” Voice cracking, Harry had so much to say to this man. “I’m sorry.” God, his voice was _wrecked_.

He heard Snape’s cloak rustle. “Potter.”

Suddenly incensed, Harry spun round harshly ”Stop.” This man loved his mother, saved his life and sacrificed his own but still spoke to him like he was a plague.

Snape, healthy aside from the cane at his side, wore an expression like he was entertaining a wild animal. ”Harry.” He spoke hesitantly.

Harry didn’t realise he had been holding his breath. He couldn’t look at Snape’s for any longer.

Focusing on the blades of grass by his shoes, Harry paid close attention to a pebble.

“If I had-” Harry tried to explain but he saw Snape’s shoes hedge further into his peripheral vision.

Swallowing, Harry started again, “I could have _done_ something-'' Snape's cane came into view and effectively silenced him.

“Children know no better.” Snape's voice was low and somber.

Compelled to raise his eyes, Harry was surprised to find Snape looking down at him so intently, Snape's narrowed eyes focusing on Harry’s own and for a moment Harry wondered if he saw his mother.

Expressionless, Snape gestured with his cane for them to go back through the french doors. As they did, Harry’s eyes swept over the countless vials, cauldrons and, interestingly enough, flowers. They were everywhere, on shelves, the long wooden workbench and poking from in between pages of books. He recognised many from the greenhouse and one stuck out from them all.

Glancing back, Harry saw Snape wave his cane towards the french doors and as they began to shut gently, he noticed Harry watching, “I was charitably compensated with an extension of my wand for recuperation.” 

Severus Snape was awarded an Order of Merlin First Class while fighting for his life at St Mungos shortly after Aurors detained him amid their sweep of the castle for remaining Death Eaters and their sympathizers. When Harry and his friends heard whispers flooding the castle that he was found, barely alive, Hermione grit her teeth and helped Harry give Rita Skeeter the exclusive of being the only press amid few Government Officials in Dumbledore's former office as Harry broadcast Snape’s memories for viewing in the pensieve to aid his immediate exoneration. She needed little convincing. Dumbledore's portrait, initially looking to have been sleeping soundly, was looking down at those present with a keen gleam in his beaded eyes as he congratulated Harry and reaffirmed Snape's truth. Within an hour Rita’s article made it into the hands of the wizarding community globally.

Harry nodded.

Walking out of the potions room together, Harry belatedly acknowledged the desk drowning under bundles of parchment and unopened letters.

Closing the door with a click behind them, Snape paused minutely then straightened. Overlapping his hands on his cane, he bowed slightly and righted himself all while looking at Harry.

“Thank you.” His voice was raspy and soft and for a second Harry thought he might have imagined it as Snape walked down the corridor leaving him alone to his thoughts. 

Knowing he was lost in the maze that was Malfoy Manor, Harry made the decision to follow before his former Professor made it out of his sight. Walking side by side, they navigated in silence until they made it to the drawing home which, thankfully, was empty aside from a house elf neatly lining crystal glasses on top of the low centre table as another nudged various decanters ‘here’ and ‘there’ while humming appreciatively to itself.

As they passed through the corridor where he had abandoned both Neville and Luna, Harry steeled himself for the inevitable shame when Snape interrupted his thoughts.

“Were you aware of your magic seeping out?” He asked.

“What?” Harry felt dumb asking.

“Your magic. Typically an underage wizard in distress will unbeknowingly leak violent bursts of magic.” After a beat of silence he added, ”A defensive mechanism.” 

“But i didn’t -” Harry remembered Zabini's shrill scream and it brought a quick smile to his face, “I didn’t realise, no.” Then there was the fact Harry felt like pointing out that he wasn’t underage by magical or muggle standards. 

“Done crying?” Harry could see why Nott was friends with Malfoy. What he didn't see was why exactly they all had to be present to his misery firshand, though he kept his smile at seeing that many of them had probably been caught in the explosion of beverages as their clothes were damp and sporting telltale blotches of colours and the faint smell of very expensive liquor lingered in the air. Grinning, he Ignored Nott’s rapidly flushing face and tuned into the conversation to his left.

Engrossed in her tea, Malfoy’s mother sipped quietly as her husband listened intently to Neville's tangent.

“I'm sure the ministry will help aid a wizard dispute an unlawful indebtment when it's made aware that the wizard in question can enact his own life debt within the same family.” Neville, clearly pleased with himself, locked eyes with Harry and winked.

Flashes of orange Fiendfyre warming his feet, a desperate old broomstick supporting two reminded Harry that Draco did owe him his life!

Though as Harry excitedly looked to the blonde in question, he found it odd that he simply rolled his eyes. Pansy leant up into Draco’s ear and whispered quick words that made them both snicker. Everyone else in the room acted as though they already knew what transpired in the room of requirements, their overall smug attitudes making him grow uncomfortable and unsure.

It didn’t matter, Neville had a point! If there's a way out of marrying, god- Harry shuddered. Just thinking of being near any of the women on Voldemort's side of the war made him grateful he had neglected to eat this morning.

Then, like all good things in his life, it was snatched right from under him.

Luna shook her head, the little beads in some of her braids clicking together, “The rules are different for werewolves.”

Instantaneously, the room erupted and Harry felt like all the air had been punched out of him. Zabini burst out of his seat in tandem with Malfoy’s father, both shouting. 

“Shut your filthy mouth, Looney!” Zabini has both his arms tugged on by both Draco and Astoria, hissing at him to sit back down. 

Across the room no one is holding Lucius Malfoy back as he bites out viciously, leaning across the table predatorily “... Prey tell. What makes you so presumptuous?”

Harry, meanwhile, was firmly kept in place by Snape’s grip on his wrist that he belatedly noticed after nearly wrenching his arm out of its socket at the surprising strength behind a man who apparently needed a cane.  Snape leaned in close, whispering to “Watch.”

Luna, ignoring the hostility in the room, answers breezily, “No werewolf signed The Werewolf Code of Conduct in 1637, meaning they still have no legal standing and Umbridge’s Anti-Werewolf Legislation hasn’t been repealed yet.”

As Harry digests what Luna is saying, he can see that Malfoy’s father didn’t mean why a werewolf can’t be involved but why she suspected Draco of being one. 

His childhood nemesis sat wedged between Zabini and Parkinson, face pale against the warm glow of lights.

Harry heard himself speak rather than feel the words pass his lips, “Life debts value wizarding lives…” There went his chance to use Malfoy against his mother.

“He’s more of a wizard than you, Potter.” Malfoy’s father growled.

Narcissa Malfoy rested her hand against her husband’s shoulder gently, “It would seem Miss.Lovegood was sorted within her rightful house.” Setting her tea down in a clatter, Malfoy's mother spoke evenly, “You are correct. The wizengamot and its laws only value wizarding lives Mr.Potter. You can claim nothing off of Draco as he has nothing to offer you.”  _‘Not even his lif_ e’ went unspoken.

“That’s …” Unfair Harry wanted to say but he snorted instead, overwhelmed with the hysteria seeping into him.


End file.
